Daughter of Poseidon
by PhoenixFeather0012
Summary: Maris Stone led an ordinary life - until she meets Percy Jackson: son of Poseidon, savior of Olympus, and her brother.
1. Chapter 1

In my dream, I was being chased.

I couldn't see what was chasing me, but I heard its heavy footfalls and ragged breathing.

I was running along the beach, the water churning and the heavy clouds dark. The monster roared behind me, and my only rational thought was to get away from it. My feet were bare, and sharp pebbles in the sand cut the bottom of my feet.

Then the air grew cold. My breath fogged in the air in front of me. An icy mist started creeping along the beach, freezing palm trees, the sand, and everything in its path.

The mist swirled around me, plunging me into an icy cold. I froze. Literally. My fingertips turned blue, and frost raced up my entire body. I heard the monster roar once before it was eerily silent, and I figured it had been frozen too.

As I stood on the beach frozen in place, the ocean froze. Ice cracked and spread out over the churning sea in sheets thick enough to run on.

Then the laugh. An icy, humorless cackle cold and icy as the mist freezing everything around it.

Snow swirled above, spiraling from the clouds to the ground, and a figure emerged.

She had an unnaturally pale complexion, like snow. She was tall and graceful, and even more so in her white dress that floated in layers around her. Her hair was raven black, braided over her shoulder, a sharp contrast to the whiteness around her. Her eyes were deep brown, but there was no warmth in them, and her lips were curved up in a cruel smile.

"Run, little demigod," she said, and her words echoed. "You'll run out of time soon enough."

And she disappeared in another flurry of snow.

_What do you mean? _I wanted to scream. _What's a demigod?_

But I couldn't move, couldn't speak.

The beach shifted and blurred into another image. The dark clouds and frozen ocean was replaced by a bright sky and a grassy hill. A stone gateway with an inscription I couldn't make out stood proudly at the top of the hill. Another figure was there, leaning against a column of the gateway. But it was a guy this time, maybe a year or two older than me.

He was tall and lean, wearing an orange t-shirt and jeans. His hair was dark and windswept, and his eyes matched the color of mine: startling blue-green. He was turning something between his fingers, and I noticed it was a pen.

"You're close," he said, looking at his hands. "But you're running out of time."

Apparently everyone wants to tell me I'm going to die.

"Just keep searching," he said.

"Who are you?" I asked. "Where am I? What do you mean?"

But it didn't seem like he could hear me.

"Just keep searching," he repeated and he looked up, his eyes meeting mine. "You're close."

Why did he look so familiar? Something about him tugged at me, but I couldn't figure out why.

"Maris," he said.

How did he know my name?

"Maris! You're going to be late!"

I woke with a start, not the boy saying my name but my mother, shaking me awake.

"You overslept," she informed me. "You'll need to hurry."

I groaned and pressed my face into my pillow, but the image of the green-eyed boy was burned into my mind.

"Mom, do I really have to go?" I mumbled into the pillow.

"I know you don't want to, but you don't want to get held back, either," Mom said, opening the curtain and letting bright sunlight in.

"Can't I get, like, I private tutor or something?" I said. "Everyone thinks I'm stupid because I have to go to this summer school, but it's just the dyslexia."

Mom smiled sadly. "I know. I would, but . . ."

I knew. Money like that was scarce. Mom wanted to be an artist, but her paintings often didn't sell. When she wasn't painting she was searching for a job, but no one seemed to want to hire her.

Mom ruffled my hair and smiled. "Well, after school we can go out to get ice cream, alright?"

"Deal," I said. She knew how to bribe me.

I forced myself to get out of bed and dress myself. Well, the clothes matched at least. I trudged to the bathroom, brushed my teeth, and ran a brush through my hair. I stared at my reflection in the mirror. Long, straight black hair, blue-green eyes like the boy's in my dream, and a spray of freckles across my nose.

I didn't look like Mom, who had reddish-brown hair and blue-gray eyes. She was a blend of color, from her hair to her eyes, her paint-splattered jeans, and the purple bandana in her hair.

'_You have his eyes, you know,'_ she would say to me. _'His eyes, and his hair.'_

I've tried to imagine what my dad would be like hundreds of times. He died when he was fishing, when his boat sunk. No one found the body. No one knows why the boat sunk. But he's gone. I hadn't even been born yet. Mom doesn't have any pictures, either. I've never had the nerve to ask why.

"Maris, come on!" she called from the kitchen. "You'll miss the train!"

I tore away from the mirror and went into the kitchen. She handed me a piece of toast and my backpack.

"I know it's tough, but it'll be worth it," she said encouragingly.

_When?_ I wanted to say, but she seemed to be in a good mood, and I didn't want to ruin it.

"Okay, Mom," was all I said as I walked out the door.

**. . . .**

Thirty minutes later, I was sitting in an uncomfortable desk, in a stifling hot classroom, a disapproving teacher in front of me, and my unfinished work lying on the desk.

Miss Kerr picked up my paper. "Nothing. Absolutely nothing. May I ask you, Miss Stone, why you neglect to do your work?"

My face burned. Miss Kerr had decided she despised me the second I walked into her class. She constantly called me out in front of the class, made me feel completely stupid, and humiliated me in front of everyone.

"I don't know," I mumbled.

"What?" she said loudly.

"I don't know," I said again. It wasn't that I didn't know how to do it. I've struggled in history and English since third grade. I was diagnosed with dyslexia in fourth. I failed tenth grade English, and I had no other option that to take summer school.

"You don't _know?_" Miss Kerr said loudly.

My hands subconsciously clenched into fists. Maybe if I stared hard enough at her head it would burst into flames.

"I can't read it," I said through gritted teeth.

"You can't _read_?" she repeated. She turned to the other kids, who had made no more progress than I had with the worksheet. "Tell me, does anyone else feel they are unable to do the work because they _can't read_?"

There were a few snickers. I wanted to smack the smirk off her makeup-covered face.

"No one else has this problem?" she said. She turned back to me. "I see no reason why you shouldn't be doing your work," she slapped the paper back down on my desk. "This excuse won't work. Finish the paper."

The class was still snickering and Miss Kerr smirked as I struggled to read the words. The harder I tried to read, the more the letters seemed to float off the page and swirl into a jumble of nonsense.

Across the room, a girl was on her phone texting a friend, her blank paper sitting untouched on her desk. Miss Kerr swept by her without a downwards glance. I gritted my teeth.

I tried to concentrate on reading. I hadn't even managed to get through the first sentence.

"Still nothing?" Miss Kerr smirked as she walked past me again. "Laziness. I'm afraid I'm going to have to call your mother about your behavior."

My hands clenched so hard my pencil snapped in half.

**. . . .**

When Miss Kerr released us at the end of class, I couldn't go home and face Mom. She called her right there, saying loudly so every student could hear her, about how I was a disappointment and refused to do my work.

Instead of taking the train home, I walked in the opposite direction of the train station, trying to delay going home for as long as possible.

I went into a small coffee shop and sat at a small table in the corner. No one else was in the shop, and a waitress lounged against the counter, eyeing me as I entered.

My phone started ringing. I pulled it out of my pocket. It was Mom. I couldn't answer the call. I didn't want to hear the disappointment in her voice.

The waitress came over. She had dyed blond hair and a ring through her nose, chewing gum rather obnoxiously.

"Are you going to order anything?" she asked, blowing a bubble.

"Um, not right now, thanks," I said. She rolled her eyes and walked away.

I watched the people walking past the shop. A man in a crisp business suit and red tie, walking quickly as he glanced at his watch, a couple holding hands, looking as though they didn't have a care in the world, and a young guy in all black, holding what looked like a . . . Happy Meal?

I gasped. Next to the black-clothed boy was the boy of my dreams. Literally.

It was the same lean figure, disheveled dark hair, and startling green eyes. He had an easy grin that even coaxed a smile out of his friend with the Happy Meal, who looked like he despised sunlight.

"Look, if you're not going to order anything you have to leave," the waitress said, and I left without a word, my eyes trained on the green-eyed boy and his black-clothed, Happy-Meal-carrying, sunlight-despising friend.

They turned down an alley, and when I turned the corner, they were gone. Simply melted into the shadows.

"What?" I gasped aloud. What there a side entrance to a building here? There couldn't have just disappeared.

But they had.

**. . . .**

"Maris, we've talked about this," Mom said, her hands on her hips and a smear of blue paint on her cheek.

"I'm sorry," I said, feeling mortified, humiliated, disappointed, and shameful. Mortified and humiliated that Miss Kerr actually called Mom to tell her I refused to do work, disappointed and shameful that I had failed Mom again. "It's the dyslexia, Mom. It just gets worse. I _told_ her I couldn't read it."

"I know," Mom said. "But your teacher said you weren't even remotely making an effort.

I almost yelled in frustration. "Mom, I am! There are people who sit in the corner texting and she doesn't yell at them!"

"This isn't about them!" Mom said. "This is about you and your education!"

"I'm trying!" I said, gesturing with my hands, something I tend to do a lot when I'm upset.

"It didn't seem like it!" Mom said.

"She's lying!" I exclaimed.

"Maris, listen to me!" Mom snapped. "You don't seem to understand what -"

"I understand perfectly!" I cried. "I'm a disappointment!"

"That's not what I -"

"It didn't seem like it!" I snapped, my voice rising. "'It'll get better,' you said, but can't you see it's not? You never had to go through this, you don't know what it's like to struggle like this or to be looked down upon, you don't know!"

Mom stared at me sadly, and I realized the impact of my words. She did know. She would try to sell her paintings on the streets because no one would sell them in her stores, and people wouldn't even look at her. She struggled just to gain enough money to pay the rent for our apartment.

"I – I didn't mean -" I stumbled over the words and I couldn't find them.

"Maris -"

I turned, wrenched open the door, and ran.

"Maris!"

Tears stung my eyes as I ran out of the apartment complex, down the street, away from the hurt in her eyes.

It was almost nightfall, and I knew I shouldn't be out, but I kept running.

Finally I slowed to a walk, unable to keep running. I looked at my surroundings and realized I had no idea where I was.

There was an empty alley to my left. I ducked into it, leaned against the brick wall, and broke down. I couldn't believe I had really just said that to Mom. She worked hard to support us, to support me, and I had just thrown it back in her face.

Ungrateful, disrespectful, unworthy, disappointment . . . that words rolled around in my head as tears ran down my cheeks. I cried for what felt like hours, and when there were no more tears, silent, shuddering breaths shook me.

Then I was angry. Angry at myself, at Miss Kerr, at the dyslexia, at the kids who laughed.

There were several empty glass beer bottles lying nearby. I picked one up, and without thinking, hurled it against the wall, where it shattered in an explosion of green glass.

It felt good to break something.

I threw another one, and another, until there was a pile of colored glass glittering faintly on the ground.

I picked up the last one, ready to smash it against the wall, when a voice suddenly rang out.

"What are you doing?"

I jumped and whirled around. I nearly dropped the bottle. It was him, the boy of my dreams, the friend of the kid in black. Right there, all disheveled hair and green eyes.

"I – I -" I struggled to find words. It was definitely the same guy I had seen in my dream. There was no mistaking it.

He stepped into the alley. His easy smile was gone, replaced by a reproachful gaze. His hand kept creeping towards his pocket.

"I'm just – I needed – I needed a way to vent," I managed.

The boy nodded. "I just heard the noise and came out to see what it was. I live up there." He pointed up at the building, and I finally recognized it as another apartment complex.

"You look – kind of familiar," he said, studying my face.

"I – I do?" I was still struggling with words. I noticed a tattoo on his upper arm, a single, thin black bar below a trident.

"Who are you?" I finally blurted.

He gave me that easygoing smile.

"I'm Percy. Percy Jackson."

**End of Chapter One**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Okay, I lied. I didn't update by the end of that weekend I said I would . . . or the one after . . . or the one after. I know, I'm a terrible person and you all hate me, and I'm sorry! *ducks* Hey! You did NOT just throw a brick! *Jason laughing in the background* As soon as March is over, I'll be updating so much faster, I promise. THIS TIME I WILL KEEP THAT PROMISE! Apologies for the short chapter, most of it is because of the dialogue.  
**

**Disclaimer: (which I forgot in the last chapter) I do not own Percy Jackson, if I did the movies would be way better.**

**Percy POV**

"I'm Maris Stone," the girl said.

Percy had been surprised and slightly thankful to find that it was her breaking the glass bottles and not a monster. Even with the Doors of Death shut, he had already experienced several near-death experiences this summer.

Maris looked startlingly like Dad. With her dark hair and blue-green eyes, she look exactly like a child of Poseidon. But she couldn't be a demigod. She was too old, maybe fifteen or sixteen.

"I can walk you home if you want," Percy offered.

"Thank you," Maris said gratefully. She brushed a strand of hair out of her face. "I have no clue where I am."

"Percy put his hands in his pockets. "I've had those moments."

Suddenly Maris froze, staring over his shoulder. He whirled around, his fingers closing around Riptide. His eyes widened. Standing in front of him was his evil, psychotic 6th grade math teacher.

"M-Mrs. Dodds?"

"Hello, honey," she said in a sickly sweet voice. She looked even more wrinkled, and she still wore her stupid leather jacket. When she smiled, she showed teeth capable of slicing him to bits.

"I haven't seen you since -"

"The Underworld," her hissing laugh sent a chill down his spine. What in Hades did she want with him now?

"What do you want?" Percy demanded. He didn't know what was worse: seeing her ugly bat-face again or that she was ruining his time off. He just saved Olympus, couldn't a guy get a break?

"I came for her," Mrs. Dodds leered, pointing a crooked finger at Maris.

Maris paled. "What? Who the hell are you?"

"That's a Fu - I mean - that's, uh, Mrs. Dodds," Percy winced at his mistake. She hadn't pounced on them yet so he was probably just waiting to kill them viciously. "She was my math teacher." He turned back to Mrs. Dodds. "Why do you want Maris?"

"Mrs. Dodds turned her glare to him. "That isn't any of your concern, boy."

She's definitely a demigod, Percy thought. He leaned towards Maris. "When I say 'run,' run," he muttered.

"Don't try to escape me, Perseus Jackson," Mrs. Dodds's eyes began to glow like embers. "Spawn of Poseidon," she spat. "You were lucky the first time."

She changed completely, her fingers extending into claws, her leather jacket melting into skeletal wings. Maris screamed.

"RUN!" Percy yelled, abandoning his years of training, grabbing Maris's wrist, and yanking her out of the alley.

"What is that?" Maris cried, her eyes wide in terror.

Mrs. Dodds snarled behind them, her fangs dripping with saliva and some other nasty stuff. Percy groaned inwardly. She just couldn't leave him alone.

There was no possible way Maris wasn't a half-blood. Unless she was a mortal who could see through the Mist and was either really important or had screwed up enough to anger one of the gods and send a Fury after her. Yeah, that probably wasn't the case.

"A Fury," Percy answered, pulling her along the street.

"Those don't exist!" She snapped.

"Welcome to my world!"

Mrs. Dodds screeched, spreading her leathery bat wings. She leapt into the air, soaring above them.

"Oh my god, it can fly?!" Maris shrieked.

"You're doing good, most people faint as soon as they see the monster change," Percy called.

"Not making any promises!"

"Die, honey!" Mrs. Dodds snarled.

"Over here!" Percy made a sharp turn between two buildings. Maris didn't follow. "Where are you going?!" He yelled after her in horror.

A shadow dropped into front of him. Mrs. Dodds leered, her wings blocking the exit of the alley. Percy reached into his pocket and uncapped Riptide. It unfolded, expanding into a three-foot long, gleaming Celestial bronze sword. Mrs. Dodds hissed.

"Back off!" Percy yelled.

"I've waited a long time for this, Perseus Jackson," she growled. She bared her teeth. "And I'll enjoy it!"

She leapt forward, reaching out with her claws. He prepared to swing. He was _not _getting killed by his eighty-year-old grouchy math teacher.

She dodged his first strike and raked her claws along his arm. Percy cried out, clapping a hand to his arm. Three long, parallel gashes ran from his shoulder to his elbow. His hand came away bloody.

Mrs. Dodds cackled. "Maybe you should've paid more attention in my class!"

Suddenly there was a crash, and Mrs. Dodds collapsed in mid-leap.

Maris stood behind her, the remains of the last beer bottle in her hand. She had smashed it against the Fury's head.

Percy couldn't help but nod approvingly. _Not bad. _

He stepped over to Mrs. Dodds's crumpled form. "Maybe you should've given me a better grade," Percy said, raising Riptide. He drove his sword down towards Mrs. Dodds's neck. As soon as the blade touched her skin, she evaporated into yellow sand.

Maris leaned against the wall, dropping the green glass and crossing her arms. Percy capped Riptide, and it shrank back into it's pen form.

"So you're telling me," Maris said, "That Furies are real? Like, Greek myths come to life?"

"Yeah," Percy said, pocketing the pen. "It's all true."

"That's bullshit."

"I know," he responded. "Believe me." He raised his eyes and met hers, and was caught by the overwhelming feeling that he knew her.

He was suddenly aware of a stinging pain in his arm and remembered the cuts. He pulled the ripped fabric of his jacket away to examine the damage.

Maris's eyes widened. "You're bleeding."

"It's nothing," Percy said, dropping his sleeve.

"That's a lie."

She reminded him of Annabeth. It was the fierce look in her eyes, daring him to question her.

"Why are you smiling?" She questioned.

"No reason," Percy tried to wipe the smile off. He needed to take her to Camp Half-Blood. He couldn't tell her himself. It would probably come out wrong. 'By the way, Maris, your dad isn't dead, he happens to be a million year old Greek god encrusted with barnacles just hiding from you your whole life.'

"Come on," he said, walking out of the alley.

"Um, where, exactly?" Maris said, following, shoving her hands in her pockets.

"A safe place from things like Mrs. Dodds."

"Woah, wait," she stopped. "I hardly know you. You have a freaking sword in your pocket! You could be a serial killer for all I know! You didn't hesitate to kill her!" She pointed to the alley behind them.

"Okay, you're right," Percy said. "I don't know you. But that thing that just attacked us? That wasn't human. And there's more. You're like me. Unless you want to wind up dead, you'll come with me."

Maris didn't budge. "Where?" She insisted, crossing her arms.

"Camp Half-Blood," Percy said.

Her eyebrows rose skeptically. At this point Percy was ready to pick her up and drag her there.

"Is this some kind of joke?" She snapped.

Percy threw his hands in the air in exasperation. "This is the only safe place for people like us."

"People like _you_," she corrected.

Percy was ready to strangle her now. Gods, why were girls so _stubborn_?

He huffed and walked to the edge of the street. Somehow none of the people driving by had noticed the Fury, but the Mist caused them to see anything but the truth. They probably thought it was a bat on steroids or something.

Percy waved as taxis raced by until one of them screeched to a halt by the sidewalk. The driver rolled his window down. He grinned with several missing teeth.

"Little late for you to be out alone, huh?"

"I'm seventeen and if you aren't interested in giving us a ride, leave," Percy said firmly. He noticed Maris standing behind him, a scowl on her face and her arms crossed. Percy decided to cut her some slack. She had a rage in an alley, obviously something had affected her.

"Hop in, kid," the cabbie said.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: I'M REALLY, REALLY, REALLY, REALLY SORRY! I know, I lied . . . again. I'm trying, I swear. Writer's block sucks. Anyway, new chapter! It's kind of a filler, but the arrival at camp is somewhat necessary so I had to put it in. I hope you like it! Please leave comments, criticism, or anything you wish to see in the future. Input is always welcome!  
**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Percy Jackson**

**Maris POV**

"This better be good, Jackson," I growled as I slipped for the third time trying to walk up the steep hill. Percy was climbing the hill with ease, which only infuriated me even more.

Millions of questions swirled around my head. The dream with the woman in white, the Fury, Percy, my dad - I knew they were all connected somehow. Greek myths come to life . . .

The palm of my right hand was still stinging. I tried to ignore it and keep climbing this stupid hill. The glass from the bottle I had smashed over the Fury's head had sliced a gash into my hand running from my index finger to my wrist. It was deep, probably needing stitches, and the blood had soaked the sleeve of my jacket long ago.

I glanced over at Percy's own injury from the Fury. Three long, parallel scratches just below his shoulder.

We stepped into a ring of firelight at the top of the hill. Below us, the hill sloped down into a valley. Rows of small houses - cabins, maybe? - were barely visible in the moonlight. Lights flickered inside a much larger house.

Something close to us stirred in the darkness beyond the firelight. A strangled gasp escaped me as I made out a full-grown dragon with coppery scales coiled around a large pine tree. It raised it's head, regarding me with yellow eyes, probably deciding whether or not to kill me viciously.

Percy looked over. "Oh . . . that's Peleus. He's friendly. Mostly."

That didn't reassure me whatsoever, but I followed Percy down the hill into the valley.

We reached the larger house, lit by dim yellow lights above the wraparound porch. It was a sky blue color, with white trim and white curtains framing the windows.

Percy knocked on the door, but no one answered.

"Well, that's that," I said, turning to walk off the porch. "Nice meeting you and fighting Furies and all that, but I should really leave now -"

I tried to bolt.

"Maris, wait!" Percy cried.

I froze as the door creaked open, spilling light onto the grass.

"In a bit of a hurry, are we?" someone asked.

I turned around slowly. My eyes widened as they fell on polished hooves and the muscular legs and body of a white stallion. But instead of the neck and head of a horse, there was the torso of a man. He had a bow slung over his back, thinning brown hair and a scraggly beard.

Standing behind me was a centaur.

** . . . .**

Almost an hour later, the centaur, who introduced himself as Chiron, fully explained where I was, _what_ I was, and why.

"Okay, wait a minute. You're saying that my dad is a _god_?" I repeated for probably the fiftieth time. The lemonade Chiron insisted I drink sat untouched in front of me.

"Yes, child," Chiron calmly, like he'd had this conversation hundreds of times.

"Gods, Furies, dragons, centaurs - I'm going crazy. I'm going crazy!" I exclaimed.

"Believe me," Percy said around his lemonade straw. "That wasn't the first time I've been attacked by Mrs. Dodds. You kind of get used to it after a while."

"I'm guessing the Fury isn't the only monster out there," I said.

"No. There are many more," Chiron said. "Which is why you must stay here, at Camp Half-Blood. You will train here, become stronger, and learn how to become a hero. It is not safe for you in the mortal world. You are a very powerful demigod."

"So things like the Minotaur, and the Hydra, and Sirens, and -"

"Yes, yes," Chiron looked around nervously. "But - it is best you do not go around naming them. Names are powerful things."

I nodded, staring at the ice cubes floating in my lemonade. I still had so many questions. One stuck in my throat as I tried to speak.

"Who is my father?" I asked.

Chiron and Percy exchanged a glance like they knew something I didn't.

"We don't know," Chiron said calmly. "You must be claimed by your father."

"How long will that take?"

"The gods promised not to take more than a few days," Percy said.

"You've had a long night," Chiron said, guiding me to a plush blue couch. "You can sleep here tonight. Tomorrow you can meet Mr. D and Percy can give you a tour."

"Who's Mr. D?" I said, laying down and figuring there was absolutely no way I would be able to sleep after what happened today. It seemed like forever ago when I was sitting in that summer school classroom.

The last thing I heard was Chiron saying, "Oh, just Dionysus."

**. . . .**

Naturally, my dreams were crazy.

I was standing in a palace of ice. Jagged icicles hung from the ceiling, curtains were frozen to the windows, and glistening staircase leading up into a hallway lined with soldiers blue with cold. They held swords, spears, shields, wore armor and helmets, and it wasn't until I looked closer that I realized they were _actually _frozen.

I shivered, rubbing my hands together to try and warm them. My breath fogged in the air in front of me. Frost was starting to gather on my shoes. _Why the hell would you live in an ice palace?_ I thought bitterly. We're_ all going to get hypothermia._

I heard voices in the hallway above the staircase.

"Cal, shut up, the hockey game isn't on for another hour! Now where did you put my special formula shampoo?" a male voice demanded.

"Didn't take!" another male voice said.

"I know you took it!" the first guy snapped. "How else am I going to maintain my beautiful hair?"

"Didn't take!" the second one insisted. "Hockey!"

"_No_, Cal, no hockey!" the first guy said in an exasperated tone.

"Boys!" another voice, this one female, snapped.

I felt frost race up my fingers with the girl's words. I recognized her voice, but I couldn't remember where I had heard it.

"Have you done what I asked?" the girl asked.

"You told us last month about this," the first guy grumbled. "How much are we supposed to do in one month?"

Their voices grew louder, and the two guys and the girl appeared at the top of the stairs. The boys were about my age, but that's where the similarities end. The first speaker looked like he popped off a disco record, complete with the feathered hair, though it was ice-white, loose white shirt unbuttoned and showing his chest hair - or rather, his lack of it - and bell-bottom pants. He had serious acne, and kept messing with his hair. Did he think it made it look better? The second boy was in way too many fights - his right eye was black, his jaw was bruised, and when he opened his mouth, two teeth were missing. He was built like an ox and probably twice as heavy.

A strangled gasp escaped my lips as I recognized the girl. She had been in my dream, the same one Percy had been in. She looked exactly the same - white gown, dark hair braided over her shoulder, pale skin, and the permanently disgusted look on her face, which was usually directed at the two boys.

"Zethes," the girl said in a carefully controlled tone. "If you imbeciles cannot take simple orders, do you expect me to give you a throne on Olympus?"

"Well, the Cyclops aren't cooperating and we can only steal so much from Hephaestus at once," the disco guy, Zethes, whined.

"Pizza," the other guy supplied.

"Cal, _shut up!_" Zethes and the girl snapped.

Cal smoldered while the girl and Zethes argued.

"I expect a better update next time," the girl warned. "Otherwise you can kiss your throne on Olympus good-bye!"

The girl disappeared in a swirl of snow. I shivered as a wave of cold hit me.

"Sister is mean," Cal grumbled.

**. . . .**

When I woke, Percy and a tall, athletic-looking girl with curly blond hair were talking in low voices.

"If she's really back -"

"Well, she's definitely persistent."

"She's got to have a plan."

"I bet the stupid Boreads know."

"Percy, shut up!" the girl nodded towards me.

"I'm sorry," I said, trying to sit up. "I didn't mean to eavesdrop."

"It's alright," the girl said, but she glanced over at Percy. "I'm Annabeth Chase. Come on, I'll give you a tour."

Annabeth led me around camp, introduced me to Mr. D (who turns out to be the whiniest god ever) and a couple campers, including a son of Hephaestus named Leo Valdez (who burst into flames as soon as he saw me and nearly gave me a heart attack).

As we went by all the cabins, she kept looking over at me, and I got the feeling she was analyzing the ways to take me down in a fight.

"You need a weapon," she decided finally. "Come on."

She led me around the side of Cabin Six, a white marble building with an owl carved over the door. Behind the cabin was a small shed, built out of sheets of metal. Plates of iron and bronze glinted in the sun.

Annabeth pushed the door open. Inside the shed were enough weapons to supply an army. Racks of bronze swords, polished shields, sheaths of arrows - even a couple shotguns.

There was a loud clang, and an entire rack of spears shuddered and fell, the spears clattering with enough noise to wake the dead.

"Oh, shit," a girl's voice said loudly. The speaker, a girl with long, wavy blond hair, scrambled to pick up the fallen weapons.

Annabeth sighed through her nose. "Brooklynn -"

The girl shrieked and straightened, bumping into a rack of swords and causing several of them to crash to the ground.

"Sorry! Sorry! I didn't see you come in and you scared me - and - oh, Styx, I'm such a klutz -" the girl rambled.

"Ah - yes, well, why don't you find Maris a weapon? You're good at that, and I have to talk to Chiron," Annabeth said. She left, and I had the feeling she wasn't disappointed to.

"Hi!" the girl smiled brightly. She had the same gray eyes as Annabeth, but she was much taller. "Brooklynn Foster, daughter of Athena." She put the spears back on the rack as she spoke. "Are you new here? Undetermined? You look too old to be undetermined; how old are you?"

I blinked. Questions spilled out of this girl's mouth ninety miles a minute.

All I could say was, "Uhh . . ."

Brooklynn laughed. "It's alright, we all know how it feels being the new kid. You must be a child of a minor god if you haven't been claimed yet. Is it your mom or dad?"

I stared blankly before I realized she was talking about which one of my parents was a god.

"Oh - it's my dad," I said.

"Maybe Hades - or Hypnos," she mused. She tilted her head. "Funny - you look just like a child of Poseidon. But he would have claimed you by now."

I got that same feeling I had with Annabeth - that they were analyzing every weakness and strength. Must be an Athena thing.

"Anyway, let's find you a weapon," Brooklynn said cheerfully.

She opened a dusty wooden trunk and rummaged around in it. "Gods, I don't think they've cleaned this place in years. Go ahead and look around, see what fits. Just don't impale yourself."

Not very reassuring, but I walked between the racks of the weapons, stepping over the fallen spears. Brooklynn was tossing empty sheaths out of the trunk, causing a cloud of dust to engulf her every time one hit the ground.

I stopped at the rack of swords Brooklynn had knocked over. Each sword was about three feet of dimly glowing bronze metal. I looked over at a quiver of arrows. Each one was tipped with the same bronze metal. I started to notice that none of the weapons were made of any other metal.

"Hey, Brooklynn?" I picked up an arrow.

She jumped, hitting her head on the top of the trunk. "Ow," she grumbled, rubbing the back of her head.

"What's this metal?"

"Oh," she said, "That's celestial bronze. All our weapons are made of it. Deadly to demigods and monsters, but harmless to mortals."

I curled my fingers around the hilt of one of the swords. It seemed to mold to fit my hand perfectly. It was well-balanced - heavy - but not too awkward.

Brooklynn stood up, grinning. "You're so lucky. Most people spend at least an hour trying to find the right one."

"So this is - mine?"

"It fits," she said as if it was obvious. She turned back to the discarded sheaths on the floor. She selected a simple brown leather one and tossed it to me. "Here. Standard issue, it should fit."

I strapped the sheath to my belt and slid the sword into it.

Brooklynn beamed. "Come on, I'll finish your tour."

As she led me around Camp Half-Blood, she told me I could get sword fighting lessons from Percy or a son of Apollo, I would be sleeping in the Hermes cabin until I was claimed, which could take any amount of time, and to keep one hand on any personal belongings when I came within ten feet of the Stoll brothers, twin sons of Hermes.

"Oh, and capture the flag's in two weeks, so you'll want to start training right away so you don't get killed," she said cheerfully.

_Um, what?_

"Last time a new camper tried capture the flag -" she shuddered. "Aw, man, it was bad. So he accidentally set off one of Hephaestus' traps . . ."

Well, there goes my hope for a good reputation at this place.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: I think this is a record for fastest update for me. Wow, self high five. It is really short, I apologize, but I should have the next chapter soon (no promises, you know how I am).**

**I would like to answer FlowerofApril's excellent questions, some of them I hadn't really thought about until she (or he) had pointed them out. First, when Brooklynn said, ****"You must be a child of a minor god if you haven't been claimed yet," she means that Maris is sixteen and hasn't been claimed yet, which is not supposed to happen. **

**When she suggested that Hades could be Maris' father, that was a mistake, I'll fix it, along with "sheaths of arrows" instead of "quivers of arrows." **

**When Annabeth left Maris with Brooklynn and Maris guessed that "she wasn't disappointed to." Yes, that is supposed to be 'to' and not 'too.' The sentence is simply suggesting that Annabeth is just eager to leave, because Brooklynn is kind of a walking hurricane.**

**Brooklyn the city is spelled with one 'n,' the way I'm spelling her name has two.**

**Thank you so much for the input and the reviews! I really appreciate it!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Percy Jackson**

**Maris POV**

Can I just say that the floor of the Hermes cabin is really uncomfortable?

After what felt like an eternity of tossing and turning, I gave up on trying to sleep and decided to take a walk. I slipped my shoes on and quietly left the cabin.

I made my way down to the beach. The waves were low, breaking over the sand and glinting in the starlight.

It was so peaceful it took me a moment to realize I wasn't alone.

A man stood knee-deep in the surf, holding a fishing pole. He wore a brightly colored shirt patterned with hibiscus flowers and a green fishing hat, which was an interesting fashion statement. His black hair and beard were neatly trimmed, and when he turned and grinned and me, I saw even white teeth and a cheerful smile.

"Hello, Maris," he said.

I was so stunned - that he knew my name and he was fishing in the dead of night - that all I could say was, "Are you even allowed to do that?"

The man threw back his head and laughed. Something about him nagged at me, but I couldn't figure out what it was.

"Well, I certainly hope I am," he chuckled. "If I can't, then who can?"

"What do you mean?"

The man grinned and he gestured to the ocean. "Well - it's mine, isn't it?" His fishing line tightened. He reeled it in and didn't look the least bit surprised when he pulled in an electric green snake-like creature. He just sighed and tossed the creature back into the waves. "Blasted sea serpents are such a pain."

I realized my mouth was hanging open and I quickly shut it. "Are you-?"

"Poseidon? Yes," he said calmly, casting his line back into the ocean.

He was the second god I had met and I was still surprised at how - well, how normal they looked. They didn't strike me as godly.

Poseidon reeled his line in. "The fish just aren't catching tonight, are they?" He winced suddenly. "Hera's yelling at me. I'm supposed to be at a meeting." He winked. "Ah, well. Enjoy the camp."

Poseidon turned to leave, and I found myself calling, "Wait!"

The god turned back to me. "Yes?"

"Do you know who my father is?" the question slipped through my lips before I could stop myself.

Instead of answering, Poseidon only smiled. _Why did he look so familiar?_ "You'll find out soon."

And then he was gone.

I stared out at the ocean. Why was it so difficult for anyone to tell me who my father was? Would I be stuck undetermined forever? I shook my head. Percy said that it takes a couple days before campers were claimed.

_You've been here a day, calm down, Maris, _I told myself.

Only a day? Had it been only yesterday when I was sitting in Miss Kerr's room? Only yesterday when mom and I had that argument . . .

"Hey, what're you-"

I shrieked in surprise and went into full defense mode. I whirled around, swinging my fist with as much strength as I could muster. My knuckles connected with the jaw of a figure behind me.

The yell sounded like a male's. He stumbled back, swearing heavily.

"Who are you?" I demanded.

The guy was dressed in full armor, a helmet discarded in the sand and a sword at his side. He looked to be about my age, sixteen or maybe seventeen. He had messy dark hair falling into his eyes, which looked to be dark blue. He was feeling along his jaw.

"You hit me," he pointed out unnecessarily.

"Who are you?" I repeated.

"I might ask you the same question," he said. He tilted his head. "You're the new girl, aren't you?"

"Maris Stone," I said, crossing my arms.

"Well, Maris Stone, do you greet all boys like this?" he said.

"Like what?"

"By punching them in the face. I'm sure you're fun at parties," he said, a smile playing across his lips.

"I - what - you -" I spluttered.

"What are you doing out here so late?" he said, a faint smirk on his face.

"I - I couldn't sleep," I said defensively, infuriated as I felt a blush creeping across my cheeks. His smirk widened slightly. "Well - what are _you_ doing out here?"

"I'm on duty," he said. "Technically I should report you."

"Are you going to?" I said worriedly.

"So many questions." His smirk turned into a grin, and I could tell he wouldn't be reporting me. "Rough first day, huh?"

"You have no idea," I sighed.

"Second day's worse," he said. "You start training tomorrow. I might be in the infirmary with a concussion after tonight."

"In my defense, _you _snuck up on _me_," I snapped.

"Normally girls are happy to see a handsome guy like me," he cocked his head and grinned.

I rolled my eyes. "I'm starting to think you want to get punched again."

"Ah, well, unfortunately, I have to get back to my post," he said. He winked at me and turned, grabbing his helmet from the sand. "See you around, Maris Stone."

"Hey - wait!"

The boy turned back to me. "Yeah?"

"I - I didn't catch your name," I shifted as he stared at me for a moment.

"Jordan Callum," he grinned his crooked grin, and then he turned and sauntered back towards the woods.


End file.
